


the wisp (still) sings

by santeriagreen



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Fix-It, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mentioned Maturin | The Turtle, The Turtle CAN Help Us (IT), Time Loop, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, eventual mentions of benverly, eventual mentions of hanbrough, eventual mentions of stanpat, trust me people stan WILL be back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:06:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29284245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santeriagreen/pseuds/santeriagreen
Summary: "Like Maturin said," Eddie clears his throat, "People can choose to stay here, in this dimension. They just never get the same life twice.""I wonder why we've been in the same dreams the entire time."
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Kudos: 6





	1. Hours Outside in the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Let me just say this: I have had this fic idea in my head for nearly two months now and I've been unable to stop thinking about it. I have rewritten this first chapter a countless amount of times. Today, I finally decided to say, "screw it, post the first chapter and see what happens." So, alas, here we are. This has not been beta'd, so I'm very sorry for any misspellings.
> 
> Content warnings for future mentions of drug use, mentions of death, abuse, and mild violence. 
> 
> Based off of the song The Wisp Sings by Winter Aid,  
> Chapter 1 is named after the song, "Hours Outside in the Snow" by Modern Baseball.

**January, 1991.**

The snow began to seep through Eddie’s tennis shoes as he made the eight minute walk to Richie’s house.

Eddie should’ve worn the expensive snow boots that his mother had gotten for him three months prior, but he hadn’t been thinking logically when he had climbed out of his bedroom window this morning. Thankfully, Eddie had grabbed his puffer jacket, scarf, gloves, and hat from downstairs while his mother carried on snoring. The walk is uneventful, as it usually was these days without Henry Bowers and his friends to torment Eddie and the other two remaining losers. 

After Bowers had confessed to the murder of his own father and all of the other missing children in Derry, Beverly was shipped out to her aunt in Portland. Bill had made it two months that school year before his parents moved for better job opportunities. Stan had been the next to go that January and then Ben’s mom got a different job in rural New York not even two months after Stan left. In the end, Eddie, Richie, and Mike were the only Losers left.

However, now Eddie was walking to Richie’s house at half past eight on a Saturday morning to say his final goodbyes to his best friend. As Eddie adjusts the scarf around his neck, he turns the corner onto Richie’s street to see a large gathering of neighbors at his house. Richie had told Eddie at school yesterday that his dad was having a yard sale (in the middle of January, no less) to get rid of a lot of their stuff so that they didn’t have to pay to get it all shipped to Chicago. 

“Went says he doesn’t really want to remember this place,” Richie had said. 

As Eddie gets closer, he notices just how much stuff is spread across the Toziers’ front lawn. Some of their older neighbors turn their noses up at old gaudy picture frames and lampshades, while a group of middle schoolers go through Richie’s comic collection. Eddie frowns at the thought that him and Richie will never be able to hang out in the clubhouse and read comics together. Richie is moving to Chicago and Eddie hasn’t even thought of what he’s going to do without him. 

Eddie stands awkwardly off to the side of the sale, watching as old women try to haggle with Wentworth over the price of chairs. Maggie Tozier, who is bundled up in a heavy winter coat with fur trimmings and ear muffs, is sitting at a card table further up in the yard and taking money from people. No one at the sale pays Eddie any mind, as people brush right past him and ignore him to get to the stuff on sale. 

Some of the preteens that were at the table full of comic books have moved on to sort through some old toys that were put out on another table. Eddie decides to go through some of the comics, but he doesn’t find any Spiderman (his favorite) comics like he expected to. Sure, Richie liked all sorts of different superheroes, but Spiderman wasn’t his favorite. Either some kid had been here before him and shelled out their lunch money for all of Richie’s Spiderman comics or Richie had kept the comics. 

“Hey, little Eddie,” Wentworth says as he approaches the table. “Didn’t expect to see you here this morning.”

Eddie looks up from the comics and smiles. Went had always gone out of his way to treat Eddie like his own son and Eddie had always been grateful for that. There had been a few times, when Eddie was younger, when his mother had allowed Eddie to go on fishing trips with the Tozier boys. For a few hours, Eddie had felt like he was a part of a normal family. 

“I just wanted to stop by and drop some of Rich’s stuff off,” Eddie grabs one of the straps to his backpack. 

“...and to say goodbye,” Eddie adds quietly. 

Wentworth adjusts the glasses resting on his nose and pulls his knit cap on tighter. As Richie was getting older, he was starting to look more and more like his dad. Richie and Went had the same angular jaw and nose, while Richie had his mom’s eyes and high cheekbones. A part of Eddie has always been jealous of being able to see similarities between Richie and Went, as Eddie was vaguely able to remember what his dad looked like. 

“Well, Eddie,” Went says, grabbing Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m going to miss having you around. You were somewhat of a good influence on Richie, I think you were the voice of reason, sometimes. Although, you two did get into a lot of trouble together, didn’t you?” 

Eddie barks out a laugh of all of the times they had gotten each other in trouble. Whether it was passing stupid notes in class, Richie attempting to blow spit balls at the back of Eddie’s head (which Eddie had protested greatly), or attempting to share a sled down a steep hill, Richie and Eddie had definitely been partners in crime. 

“I think you’re thinking of Bill Denbrough,” Eddie laughs, stuffing his gloved hands deep into the front pockets of his parka. 

Wentworth’s face twists for a second before a wave of realization washes over his face. 

“Oh, the Denbrough boy? With the dead brother? I had forgotten about him. He was a sweet kid.”

Eddie lets out a deep breath through his nose and remembers just what he had seen in the sewers just two summers ago. A chill runs down his spine. He had been thirteen, covered in puke, but so, so damn happy to be alive with all of his friends. Eddie remembers the slight drag of broken glass against his palm and looking around at six other faces as they all held hands. If his mother ever found out about what he had done… 

“Spaghetti,” a voice behind him calls. 

Eddie spins on his heels and watches as a rosy cheeked Richie saunters over to him in a light jacket and a pair of jeans. Eddie rolls his eyes, knowing that Richie refuses to wear any form of warm, winter clothing because he’s a stubborn asshole. Last year, Eddie had left for school eight minutes early each day just so he could go over to Richie’s house every day before school to make sure he was wearing enough layers. Maggie had commended him for it. 

“I’m gonna get my head shoved in a toilet for how many layers I wear,” Richie had said as Eddie threw his heavy winter coat at him. 

“You already get your head shoved in a toilet.” 

Richie went quiet after that but they had laughed about Eddie’s remark on the walk home that day. 

“I can’t believe I showed up to your yard sale before you did,” Eddie rolls eyes. 

Richie laughs before reaching forward to ruffle Eddie’s hair, “I’ve been here. I was just out back.” 

“Went!” Maggie calls from the table upfront. “Mr. Donahue wants to ask you about your records!” 

Wentworth zips up his jacket once more before slipping on his gloves. “I’ll give ‘em all to you for a quarter!”

Richie steps back from Eddie and watches as his dad crosses the yard over to an older gentleman that’s looking through Wentworth’s extensive record collection. Eddie knew just how much Richie secretly loved his father’s record collection. While everyone in their friend group and in their classes liked CDs, Richie had a soft spot for records, and he’d often put the needle down on a rock record on his dad’s Zenith record player when his friends came over. That is, when all of the Losers had lived in Derry. 

“Do you know if Mike is gonna come down today?” Eddie asks, looking out towards a group of kids taking refuge in some folding chairs near the front of the house. 

Richie scratches as the back of his neck with a gloved hand. “Mmm… don’t think so. He dropped by and said goodbye to me last night. Told me to make sure and keep in touch, and to…” 

Richie’s eyes wander away from Eddie and into the gray sky. He couldn’t help but wonder how Beverly was doing in Portland, or how the Denbroughs were settling in in Boston.  _ Be different,  _ Mike had said.  _ Stick to the promise. _

“...and to what?” Eddie asked. 

Richie felt the back of his eyes sting with tears. Here he was, wanting to be different, wanting to change, but all he could do was be whisked away from (what’s left of) the only friends he ever had… and the only boy he’s ever… 

Richie shoves the thought away once it tries to come to the surface. The L word only seemed to cross his mind nowadays when he was around Eddie. It was so bad last year, that Richie had even tried to avoid Eddie at times, but that was hard, given the fact that all of their other friends (save for Mike) were torn away from them at a moment’s notice. 

“It’s getting cold,” Richie says, quieter than before. “Come on, I’ve got something for you in my room.” 

Eddie groans before turning on his heels and following Richie through the crowd of people up to the front porch. As they pass Maggie on the way, she shouts at them to remind them to  _ not _ track any snow into the house, or  _ “you will be mopping the front hallway, Richard Wentworth Tozier.” _

So, Eddie and Richie both pull off their tennis shoes before stepping into the unusually pristine house. The Tozier residence had always been somewhat clean, but the house had always had that cozy, lived-in feel, unlike Eddie’s own house at times. Pictures of Richie and his older sister, Meghan, had once been hung haphazardly on the walls, but now, a new coat of paint and store bought artwork line the front hall. 

As Eddie follows Richie up the stairs, he can’t help but realize that the once red, patchy carpet that used to cover the stairs has now been replaced with plush, cream carpeting that  _ does not _ match the rest of the house. Eddie doesn’t say anything, of course, because he doesn’t want to sound rude, but he thinks of how whoever buys this house is going to be perplexed as to why the Toziers' would put different carpeting on the stairs. 

“Went had to pay some guy nearly two grand to replace the carpeting,” Richie interjects. “from all the times we slid down the stairs on mattresses when we were younger.” 

Eddie smiles at the memory of Bill Denbrough sitting behind him as Richie pushed them down the stairs on Richie’s extra trundle bed mattress. The boys had done this for years, until Richie bumped into the wall harder than usual one fateful afternoon and Maggie gave them all a scornful talking too. Richie blubbered like a baby until Eddie made him an ice pack and a little “Get Well Soon” card out of an old takeout menu that had been on the Toziers' kitchen counter. 

Maggie had told Bill’s mother about the incident when she was dropping off Bill, but nothing was said to Eddie’s mother. In fact, as Eddie was getting out of the car, Maggie had winked at Eddie and motioned zipping her lips to him and Eddie had laughed before thanking her (for both the ride home and not telling his mom about Richie nearly cracking open his skull.) 

When Eddie and Richie reach the second story landing, Eddie notices that there are about twenty boxes all piled in the middle of the landing. Half of them say “ _ Richie’s Room”  _ in a scraggled writing, while the other half say  _ “Meghan’s Room” _ in nice, neat handwriting. Meghan’s who is two and a half years older than Richie, was probably out saying her goodbyes to her friends. 

Richie opens the door to his room and the once cluttered shelves and decorated walls are completely barren now. A new, fresh coat of an ugly green paint has been smattered across the wall, disguising all of the thumbtack holes and scuff marks Richie had created over the years. A year ago, Richie had meant to playfully push Eddie out of his bed, but he’d instead sent Eddie flying to the wall shoe first. Eddie’s shoe had left a huge scuff mark on the wall, but they had both laughed about it then. 

“It’s so empty,” Eddie said into the space. “You’re really fucking leaving, huh?” 

Richie cleared his throat. “Still doesn’t feel like I am…”

“Until now, at least,” Eddie says as he crosses over to Richie’s window and lifts up one of the slats of the blinds. 

Richie shuts the door to the room behind him and watches as Eddie peers out the window.  _ This is the last time we’ll be together in my room _ , Richie thought.  _ So what if he tells people? I’ll be thousands of miles— _

“Do you remember when we used to water your mom’s flower garden out front?” 

Richie nods and moves towards the window. “Course. I only remember it because you’d overwater the plants and then when I’d call you out for it, you’d spray me directly in the face, Eds.” 

Eddie scoffs. “You brought that on yourself, Trashmouth.” 

“You’d spray me in the face and it would get my glasses wet and temporarily blind me,” Richie shoves at Eddie’s shoulder. “it was unfair.” 

Eddie stumbles but pushes Richie back, “I was cleaning your glasses. Those things are so fucking filthy all the time, anyways. How the fuck do you see?” 

Eddie reaches forward and takes the glasses off of Richie’s face, a motion that almost feels second nature to him. As Eddie scrubs at the lenses on Richie’s glasses with his shirt, Richie blinks as he watches Eddie’s blurry fingers work. 

“What am I gonna do without you, Spaghetti?” 

Eddie looks up at him and even if he is a fuzzy blob, he’s beautiful. 

“You’ll have no problem finding someone to pick on in Chicago, I’m sure,” Eddie says, putting Richie’s glasses back on his face. 

“There is no replacing you, Eddie My Love,” Richie reaches forward and tries to pinch at Eddie’s cheeks, but Eddie jerks his face away. 

Eddie’s cheeks, whether it’s from the weather or Richie’s comment, are a shade darker than usual. Richie puts his hand down by his side before watching Eddie avert his eyes to the window once more. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get you anything for like, your going away present,” Eddie says. 

Richie shrugs, “we’ve had, what, four going away parties in the past two years? I’m not hurt, Eds.” 

Eddie thinks again of the last going away party they’d had and how the three of them hadn’t been in the Clubhouse since. Being down in the clubhouse without their friends just felt wrong and so Mike, Eddie, and Richie often opted to go to the Arcade or Richie’s house. 

“I do have something for you, though,” Richie moves towards a remaining box that sits next to his now-empty closet. 

Richie rifles through the box, which is labeled, “ _ For Safekeeping.” _ Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie can see that there are a few school certificates and pictures of the Losers that Richie is pushing right past. Once Richie finds what he’s looking for, he throws everything back into the box in a messy heap and plants the object in Eddie’s hand.

Eddie’s suspicions from earlier, were in fact, correct. Richie had saved one of his Spiderman comics for him, and it just happened to be one of Eddie’s favorite ones. Eddie remembers when Richie had brought this one to his house one day when he had been cooped up for a whole week because his mother thought he had the flu. 

This particular comic had been about Peter and MJ getting married and when Eddie had been able to come back to school, it had been the only thing he’d been able to talk about. Eddie had already thanked Richie for the comic when he’d shown up with it when he’d climbed through Eddie’s window. However, Eddie had thanked Richie again and again, before eventually giving it back to him. 

“I can’t believe you remembered this,” Eddie laughs, hugging the comic book to his chest. “Thanks, Richie.”

Richie beams, his crooked smile expanding from ear to ear. “Don’t mention it, Spaghetti. It’s just… something to remember me by, I guess.”

Eddie opens up the front cover of the comic book, only to see Richie’s handwriting on the first page. The words “See you soon, Spaghetti,” were scratched just near a picture of Spiderman, and Eddie’s heart squeezes once more at the image of a younger Richie peering into his room from the window. Eddie runs his fingers over the words.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Eddie whispers, looking at the floor. Looking anywhere else but at Richie. 

Richie leans forward and puts a hand on Eddie’s forearm. They’re facing each other now, and Eddie finally looks up at him. Eddie’s eyes, the thing that probably kept him out of trouble and from being scolded as much when he was younger, peer into Richie’s and he feels like he’s going to fucking melt, right here, all over the brand new carpet in his childhood bedroom. It almost feels as if time has stopped and everything else in the world is just so… minute. The world stops and suddenly, he and Eddie are in an open field, the green grass swaying around them, the birds singing in the background. Richie can feel the warm sunshine on the back of his neck, he can smell the fresh spring breeze, and it’s the calmest, most peaceful he’s ever been in years. 

Then, he leans forward and-

“Eddie!”

A familiar voice rings out in the foyer of the house downstairs. Shit. Fuck. 

Eddie leans back, his once serenful eyes suddenly filling with panic. “I-I’ve gotta…”

“You should go,” Richie finishes the thought. “Goodbye, Eddie.”

Eddie moves towards the door, putting the comic book under his shirt and in the waistband of his jeans. He zips his jacket and adjusts his knit cap, before putting his hand on the doorknob.

“Bye, Richie,” Eddie turns to face Richie, his eyes wet with tears. “Call me, uh… when you get there.” 

Another yell rings up the stairs, this time, louder than before, “Eddie-Bear!”

Eddie takes one last look at Richie before turning the handle of the door. 

The room is silent once more and colder than Richie remembered it being. The hairs that had stood up on his neck moments before have laid back down and the only thing Richie can smell now is mothballs, not a spring day. Richie opens his blinds, to watch Mrs. Kaspbrak’s drive off and down the street. 

“I will, Eds.”

\--

**September, 2016.**

The walk back to the townhouse is painfully silent.

Aside from the sound of their collective shoes scraping across the asphalt of Main Street, none of the Losers say anything. The people around them, the citizens of Derry, say nothing to them as they all stalk thru the streets like zombies. They are all covered in God knows what, even after jumping into the quarry water. At this point, Richie can’t even smell himself, nevermind the others, but he knows they all smell like death. 

Death. Eddie. 

The image of Eddie above him flashes behind his eyes, once… twice… three times… before he pushes it away. If only Richie had a time machine to throw Eddie off of him just in time, to take that stupid fucking claw for him, or to roll away and save both of them. This whole day has felt like an out of body experience. 

As they get closer to the townhouse, Ben and Beverly strike up a quiet conversation behind Richie that he can only bits and pieces of. Ben is telling Beverly about his house in Breckenridge, and how that’s super far from New York - and her abusive husband. Beverly laughs and says she’s tired of the cold and then Ben offers his yacht as an ultimatum. 

Richie has to tune them out after a while because he can’t stand to hear how happy and domestic Ben and Beverly are going to be getting while Richie is going to have to fly home and pretend that everything is fine before he probably - eventually - has another  _ fucking  _ breakdown on stage again. He doesn’t even want to imagine what Steve is going to say about that one.

Nagging thoughts eat at the back of Richie’s brain as he watches the ground in front of him change from cracked asphalt to gravel. Eddie, probably, most definitely, no,  _ one hundred percent _ did not feel the same way. He had a wife (that seemed to hate, but don’t most straight men joke about hating their wives?) and no interest in Richie. 

_ Didn’t he risk his life to save you? _ The voice asks.

They’d been best friends, at least, at one point in their lives. In all actuality, Richie Tozier hadn’t thought of Eddie Kaspbrak in years, but… he had thought of how Eddie Kaspbrak had made him feel. Richie had spent upwards of twenty seven years searching for an Eddie Kaspbrak, but he hadn’t known that. How many short, angry men with aggressive eyebrows and doe eyes had Richie bought a drink for in the past ten years? He had lost count.

_ Crack! _

A rock flies past Richie’s shoe and rolls into the street and all Richie can think about is Eddie being thrown into that stupid fucking cavern. Truthfully, when Eddie’s body had hit the ground, his heart had torn in two because a part of him had known there was no saving him, then. Of course, he’d never say it out loud, and after they’d defeated Pennywise, he was convinced Eddie would be walking out of there alive. 

They’d left him there… alone. To drown in debris and be buried with IT… how could they do that? Eddie was afraid of the dark, afraid of dying, afraid of disease… they’d left him in the sewer. The  _ fucking  _ SEWER?!

Richie doesn’t even realize he’s screaming until Ben is there, behind him, holding his arms. The other Losers look at Richie, all with similar expressions of sympathy written on their faces, and all Richie can do is scream. Tears spill out onto Richie’s cheeks and there’s nothing he can do. No way he can change things. Eddie is dead. 

When his lungs give out and he can hardly seem to catch his breath, he simply crumples to his knees right there in the middle of the gravel, the tiny rocks digging into his knees. The world spins around him, until it’s too fast, and then… 

The world goes dark. 

\--

When Richie opens his eyes, he does not expect to be laying on the concrete. 

Really, after years of friendship and support, you’d think your best friends wouldn’t leave you in the middle of the street after you have a breakdown. The sky is bluer than Richie remembers it being. In fact, the sky is  _ so  _ blue, that he actually starts to get concerned. There are no clouds in the sky, which is peculiar for a place like Derry. 

When Richie sits up, he does not expect to be in the middle of a busy city. There are dozens of people passing by Richie on either side, paying him no attention. All of these people look somewhat familiar, but everyone is walking so fast that he can’t tell who they are. All of the buildings around him are tall and made of glass, but they don’t seem to be anything particularly special. Surprisingly, there are no advertisements playing on screens or billboards advertising stuff. While this city is similar to places he’s been, like NYC and Chicago, it’s definitely not either of those cities.

Finally, Richie comes to his feet. He reaches to brush off his clothing, which he now notices is no longer wet with quarry and sewer water but now completely dry. In fact, Richie’s clothing was completely different from the stuff he’d been wearing in the sewers. A white t-shirt with an armadillo on it that simply read, “ _ Padre Island _ ” on it in curly script and a pair of baggy blue jeans hang on his frame. The last time Richie had worn this outfit was when he’d been a sophomore in College. His arms, which had been a lot bulkier in Derry, were now skinnier. His hair falls in front of his eyes in messy waves. 

_ What the fuck?  _

Richie moves closer to one of the glass buildings only to notice that the building doesn’t show him his reflection. While the glass picks up the reflections of the strangers around him, he isn’t able to see himself. Richie goes to every panel, but nothing works. The strangers on the street, who had not paid him any mind earlier, now all look at him in bewilderment. 

After Richie feels that he has exhausted all opportunities to see just what the fuck he looks like, he continues down the street with the crowd. People go back to not paying attention to him, and a handful of people push past him and grumble something about being late for work. One lady in particular, with blonde hair and a heavier frame, barks at him to walk faster before hurrying past him. 

“You lost?”

Richie looks up to see a man, with a cardigan and a pair of glasses on, staring at him. The man has crow’s feet around his eyes and a mess of brown curls and something about him seems so incredibly familiar. 

“Yes, very,” Richie responds, giving the stranger another glance over. “Do I know you?”

“I cannot tell you my name,” the man continues, “but I can lead you in the right direction.”

The man motions for Richie to follow him and Richie hesitates at first. When the man looks back at him, however, a sense of trust kicks in and Richie’s legs start to move before his brain could even tell them to. The man leads him through a sea of people and to an alleyway. Richie had lived in New York for a few years while he was first starting to do stand up and he definitely knows better than to follow absolute strangers (who won’t tell you their names) into an alleyway. However, Richie can’t seem to stop himself as the man leads him further into the alleyway, away from the sea of people on the street. 

“You should know what to do from here, Richie.”

Before Richie can ask how the stranger knows his name, the man turns on his heels and brushes past Richie. Richie turns to watch the man leave the alleyway, before the stranger turns around one last time and nods at him. 

When Richie turns back around, he notices a figure walking towards him in the shadows. As he prepares himself to run away, something in Richie’s head tells him to stay. His legs remain stagnant as he can hear the figure’s shoes scrape across the ground and towards him. The figure gets closer and closer, their face distorted by the shadows in the alleyway. Once the figure’s face comes into view, however, Richie no longer wants to run.


	2. Just Another Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just want to clarify that this is unbeta'd, so my apologies for any mistakes! Not a lot of warnings for this chapter. Thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoy <3 Sorry for the wait!   
> (Chapter named after Just Another Face from Modern Baseball)

**February, 1992.**

The small and quaint townhouse that Sonia Kaspbrak had picked out for them had a beautiful brick exterior with white, crank windows and an overgrown garden. Eddie stood out on the sidewalk, looking over his new home while the people of Brooklyn rushed past him on their way to catch the subway. 

“What do you think, Eddie-Bear?” His aunt, Paulette asked, running a hand through his hair. 

Eddie swallowed, watching as a bird retreated into a gutter above their front porch, “It’s nice. A lot different from our old house, but… nice.”

Aunt Paulette hummed and began rummaging in her purse. “Y’know, I’m super excited for your mother to get this new, fresh start. I mean, it’s been eleven goddamn years since Frank passed away! Hopefully the change of scenery will help her move on, maybe even find someone new!” 

Eddie groaned at the mention of his father. For some reason, his mother’s sisters all seemed to hate his dad (even though he’d been dead for, like aunt Paulette said,  _ eleven goddamn years _ ) for seemingly no reason at all. From what Eddie could remember, his dad had been quiet, kind, and oftentimes funny. 

One of Eddie’s favorite memories of his father had been when his dad had been shaving his face one morning and Eddie had come into the doorway of the bathroom and asked what his dad was doing. Frank had laughed as he’d run the little silver razor down his cheek and then squirted some more shaving cream out onto his finger. Frank had run his finger down Eddie’s cheek, smearing shaving cream all over his face. Eddie and Frank had laughed and laughed, until Sonia had come into the bathroom. 

“Frank! Eddie has to be at preschool in fifteen minutes! You could’ve gotten shaving cream all over his shirt!” 

Frank had simply sighed and gone back to shaving his face, while Sonia had gone at Eddie’s face with a wet washcloth, washing off the last bit of fun Eddie ever got to have with his dad. Sadly enough, Frank was diagnosed with cancer two weeks after the shaving cream incident. Eddie’s father would live one more year until passing away in hospice care in their living room. 

Now, Eddie watched as a group of movers tried to fit his mother’s giant, floral loveseat in through the front door. As they struggled to get the angle right, Eddie decided to go and get some of his own boxes out of the moving truck, even if his mother had warned against it that morning before she went down to do paperwork.

There are exactly eight boxes labelled “Eddie’s Room” stacked neatly against one wall of the moving truck. Eddie grabs the top two boxes off of the stack and moves them closer to the townhouse. When Eddie opens the top flap of one of the boxes, he notices his comic book collection on top of the other stuff in the box. Eddie pulled out one of the comic books, which was a Spiderman one, and began to flip through it.

The books reminded him of a different time, of his old house, but he couldn’t exactly remember his house or the friends he’d had back there. He remembers that one boy, the one who lived on the farm with his grandfather, and… 

...who else was there? Eddie was sure there were other friends he’d had. There had been that one girl, right? The one with red hair? What had her face looked like, again? There was also that one boy, with the stutter… 

Eddie tries to place who had given him this comic book but he cannot remember just who it was. As Eddie continues to flip through the comic book, he tries to think of the kids’ names but can’t. There had also been a Jewish boy that Eddie had been friends with, as well as a boy that often spent most of his time in a library. Neither of those kids struck a chord with him. Who had given him these comic books?

When Eddie gets to the middle of the comic book, a small, folded piece of yellowing paper falls out of the end of the book. The paper tumbles to the ground and falls onto the pavement. Eddie watches as a gust of wind picks up the note and blows it further down the road. Eddie puts the comic book back on top of the box, before chasing after the piece of paper.

The paper continues down the road, further and further. Eddie is almost able to grab the paper once, but a guy walking towards the subway ends up stepping right in front of Eddie right when he’s about to grab it. The paper continues on for a block, until Eddie is eventually able to step on it to stop it from blowing any further down the block.

When he opens the piece of paper a familiar chicken scratch handwriting is in the middle of the paper. While the script is hard to read at first, Eddie adjusts the paper and holds it up to the gray sky. 

_ you were my summer rose,  _

_ buried deep under snow.  _

_ but i knew our love truly never froze. _

_ you wilted in fall, _

_ and we’re dust by november; _

_ until you come back, _

_ i will always remember.  _

Eddie re-reads the poem again and again, repeating the words to himself right there in the middle of the street. There is no sign of a signature or name of the writer anywhere on the paper, aside from a squiggly little R on the bottom left corner of the piece of paper. R? 

Who was R? 

“Eddie!” 

Eddie had turned his head to see his mother, frazzled and sweating, bolting towards him. Her polyester track suit and frizzy brown hair made her stand out like a sore thumb in their new neighborhood, as a lot of the people who had been making their way to the subway this morning had been properly dressed and young. 

“Eddie, you scared the  _ hell  _ out of me! I told you to stay with your aunt at the house, did I not?” Sonia reached forward and grabbed at Eddie’s wrist.

Eddie knew better than to try and fight his mother. He left himself be dragged back to their townhouse as his mother scolded him for leaving, while Eddie simply wanted to remind his mom that he was sixteen years old, not six. Eddie crumpled the piece of yellowing paper and put it in his pocket. 

—

**???,???**

“Eddie? is that…” 

The man standing in front of Richie now certainly looked like Eddie, but he was younger looking and more youthful. This Eddie had less worry and smile lines and a smaller frame. 

“Hey, Richie,” Eddie smiled. “Nice of you to finally show up.” 

Eddie steps forward and hugs Richie tightly, except he seems to have no feeling. Richie can feel that Eddie is near him, but he can’t feel the pressure of Eddie’s hug. As Eddie’s chest is pressed to his, he feels no sign of a heartbeat or a pulse in the other man’s chest. 

“Oh my god,” Richie blurts out. “Am I dead? Are we—“ 

“Shh,” Eddie coaxes, putting a hand over to Richie’s mouth. “I need you to follow me, alright? I can explain everything to you… if you just follow me.”

A part of Richie’s brain wants to tell him to hesitate. Logically, Richie had just fought an alien space clown seemingly hours ago. There was about a seventy-five percent chance that this dream world and this version of Eddie in front of him was nothing more than a trap or a Deadlights hallucination. 

Another part of Richie’s brain, however, can’t help but to trust this version of Eddie. With softer features and a younger face, this Eddie reminds him of the Eddie he grew up with. The boy he used to read comic books with in a hammock. 

So, Richie agrees, wordlessly. It’s a rare occurrence for Richie to be silent, but he is at a loss for words. Not even an hour ago, at least, that’s what it feels like, Richie was mourning Eddie in Derry. Now, he’s in some unknown city with some other, alive version of Eddie. 

Eddie leads Richie out of the dark alleyway and back into the light streets of the unnamed city. There are less people on the sidewalks now, but people still walk past them and even get annoyed at the both of them for walking slowly. 

“Geez, Eds,” Richie laughs. “I thought you were a New Yorker… Why are you walking so slowly?”

Eddie twists his head and shoots Richie a dirty look. “I’m trying to remember where I’m going, asshole.” 

After they traipse through the crowd for another five minutes or so, Eddie leads Richie into an unmarked building. When they walk through the doors, Richie is surprised to see an older style diner with retro looking booths and neon signs lining the walls. The floor is a black and white checkered tile and there’s a jukebox at the back of the diner. 

The diner, surprisingly, is barren except for a lone older couple sitting in the very back booth of the restaurant. A hostess, who had appeared while Richie was taking in all of the scenery of the diner, guides them to a booth in the middle. The hostess sets down two menus in front of the boys as they sit down across from one another.

“Your server, Betty, will be with you soon,” the hostess says, smoothing down the white apron wrapped around her waist.

The hostess’s name tag glitters in the sun as she turns to walk away and Richie is able to make out the name, “Laurie Anne” from the cursive writing. While the name struck somewhat of a chord with Richie, her face didn’t look familiar at all. 

“Nice place,” Richie mumbles as he opens up the menu. “I didn’t see a name when we came in, though.” 

“I don’t think they have one,” Eddie clears his throat. “A lot of places here don’t.” 

Richie furrows his brow at that, but continues to go down the list of entrees offered by the Diner. Weirdly enough, Richie has little to no appetite, given the fact that he had fought a killer clown for what seemed like hours upon hours. Richie decides to get the house salad, as he doesn’t want to waste a lot of food. When Richie sets down his menu, Eddie has his hands folded on top of his menu. 

Eddie doesn’t say anything as his big brown eyes scan over Richie’s face. Eddie’s usually pinched face is calm and collected, his brows unfurrowed and his mouth slightly upturned. “It’s weird seeing you young again after seeing you in Derry.” 

“Huh?”

“Oh uh,” Eddie’s face tinges pink. “You look… younger. I probably do too. It’s just the way this...place… works.” 

Richie swallows, before chuckling. “Yeah, you look a lot younger. You look less rabid.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, but his face still stays somewhat peaceful. “Oh, fuck you!”

Richie laughs, thinking of how much he had missed this dynamic in the twenty seven years they had been apart. The both of them have fallen silent now, looking each other up and down. Richie thinks of himself as he was in college and how he had wanted to be someone else so badly. He had always felt inferior to the other guys his age, especially since he had been nowhere near being out (it’s not like he’s anywhere closer nowadays, either.) 

“Is this weird for you?” Eddie whispers. “...because it’s weird for me.” 

“It’s just as weird for you as it is for me, Eds. Can I ask… how much do you remember?” 

Eddie leans forward and rests his chin on his hand. His eyes wander to the bay window next to their booth at the Diner and to all the people outside. Before Eddie can respond to Richie’s question, a woman with jet black hair comes over to take their orders. Eddie ends up getting a salad as well. 

After their waitress walks off with their order, Eddie sits back for a second before leaning back onto the table. His eyes go back to the window but then he looks back at Richie. 

“I died,” Eddie said quietly. “I died… and you guys left me there.” 

Richie’s heart breaks in two and he can feel the contents of his stomach start to lurch. The worst part about leaving Eddie down there, in the cistern, was thinking about him knowing that he was left behind by his friends. Realistically, Richie knows that the Losers could have died trying to carry Eddie’s stiff body out of there, but the idea of leaving him down there would never sit right with Richie. Ever. 

“I’m so sorry, Eds,” Richie says, his voice quavering. 

“Please don’t cry,” Eddie pats the hand that Richie has on the table. “I know getting me out of there would’ve been deadly for you guys. I know you didn’t want me to be left there, either.” 

Richie thinks of the dramatics of it all, how Ben and Bill had been pulling him by his shirt and how “Eddie” had been one of the only words he’d been able to scream into the dust and rubble. It still feels so distant, so out of body, that he had simply left Eddie’s body in a cavern, yet he’s talking to him in some Diner. 

“Eddie,” Richie says, blinking away the last of his tears. “What is this place?” 

It’s then that their salads and water clink down on the table, their waitress frazzled and tired looking. Richie thanks her, of course, but he can’t help but feel some strange connection to this woman. The woman, who had wordlessly taken their orders, bore a stark resemblance to someone Richie just  _ knew  _ from somewhere. Her name tag reads, “Betty,” but Richie can’t exactly remember where he knows her from. Until-

“Betty Ripsom?”

Betty had been walking away when Richie had addressed her, but she turned her head almost immediately. She gives no reaction, but simply just purses her lips together before walking away once more. Eddie watches her go, too, and he’s also probably thinking of how they had just seen Betty’s severed legs when they’d opened up that door earlier that day. (Could it still be considered that day?) 

“I don’t exactly know, honestly,” Eddie sighs, his voice at a low volume once more. “I’ve been here for awhile, I don’t know how much time has passed in your world.” 

Richie takes a sip of his water, “a few hours, I think.” 

Eddie nods, his face gets a distant look on it once more and he looks out the window again. Richie follows his eyes to a tall building across the street. The building doesn’t seem to be anything special at first, but as Richie inspects it, he realizes the building has a name at the top of it.

**_Maturin and Company._ **

“Richie,” Eddie breathes. “Did you… Are you still…” 

Richie is able to fill in the blanks. “I don’t think I’m dead. I just… hit the ground.” 

Eddie breathes out and there is a ‘plop’ sound on the table. Betty has set down their check, except it’s just a blank sheet of paper. Richie looks down at the blank receipt and just stares up at Betty and smiles his crooked grin.

“Get out of here,” Betty whispers, looking between the two men. “Before they catch on that you’re not meant to be here.” 

Richie and Eddie don’t hesitate to get up and leave the restaurant as soon as possible. When a girl who, assumedly, died in the Derry sewer system nearly thirty years ago tells you to get out, you go. Richie still has no idea what “Before they catch on,” means, but he doesn’t dare ponder the idea as Eddie grabs his hand in a panic and leads him across the street. 

Sure, Richie was worried about why Betty had kicked them out, but he wasn’t sure why Eddie was practically running across the street with Richie in tow now. In fact, Richie was sure there was an entirely other part of the story that Eddie hadn’t yet told him, or what this place exactly was. 

For a while, Richie thought that this place could be purgatory, or something along those lines, due to the fact that Eddie literally died in front of his eyes and he’d found Betty’s shoe in the sewer twenty seven years ago. 

In some weird way, however, Richie Tozier knew he wasn’t dead. While he couldn’t seem to find his pulse while he was in this  _ place _ , a part of him knew he was still breathing. His heart still pounded behind his ribs. 

Eddie turned his head to ensure that Richie was still following him. As they stepped into the building, they were greeted with regal marble pillars and high ceilings. Beautiful chandeliers drop down from the ceiling every six feet or so. A big, official-looking desk sits in the middle of the room, guarded off by a wall of glass. Eddie hurriedly knocks on the glass door, rattling the door.

No one comes to the desk or to the door at first and an echo rings out across the large space. Richie is properly freaked out over how much smaller this building looked from the outside. There are also large windows high up on the ceiling that Richie doesn’t remember being there. 

Finally, loud footsteps ring out from inside the little glass chamber. A tall, sprightly woman in heels has emerged from a doorway within the glass chamber. Her red hair sways across her shoulders as she gets closer to the big glass doors, a file folder wedged in between her arm and chest. Eddie and Richie both step back from the door and watch as the woman produces a large key from her pocket, unlocking the glass door. 

“Do forgive me,” The woman begins, “I was just grabbing your files. Come on in.”

She steps back and extends her free hand towards the room within the little glass chamber. 

Richie raises an eyebrow, “Files? How did you even know we were coming?”

“I have always known,” The woman throws her head back and laughs. “Everything here is already known, already set into motion.”

Eddie, who has been unusually quiet since coming into the building, shoots Richie a look of confusion. “Already set into--” 

“Let’s skip the small talk, boys,” the woman pulls out the chair from behind the big desk in the center of the chamber. “Please, sit.”

Richie laughs a bit at the fact that there are no other chairs in the chamber except for the one behind the desk. He wants to make a joke and ask the woman if he and Eddie should just sit  _ “Criss-Cross Applesauce” _ on the marble flooring. However, before Richie can even open his mouth, a pair of matching, plush chairs appear right before his eyes. Astounded, both he and Eddie reach forward and touch the chairs, the fabric soft underneath their hands. 

“I don’t have all day,” the woman complains. “Sit.”

Richie and Eddie both hurry to sit in the chairs. The woman’s jaded personality is very jarring for a nice building like this, but if it’s anything like the real world, it’s not unrealistic. When they both get situated and comfortable in their chairs, the woman opens up the file on her desk. She quietly begins to read off of the paper, which seems to be written in a different language. The woman doesn’t say anything as her eyes scan from the top of the file to the bottom. 

“So…” Richie begins. “Am I pregnant, or-”

“Your file says you’re a difficult one, Mr. Tozier,” she says, without looking up. “Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Eddie laughs. 

The woman smirks before getting out a pen and putting a checkmark on the top of the document, “...and Mr. Kaspbrak, it says here that you are often anxious and insecure in your earthly life… does that seem to check out?”

“That seems about right,” Richie groans. 

Eddie swats at Richie this time but Richie just swats back at him, “I was just giving you a taste of your own medicine.”

“This is a difficult case we have here, boys,” the woman clears her throat. “I’m going to have to send you to The Man Upstairs.”

Richie stops trying to swat at Eddie and looks at the woman, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head. “Oh god, you’re gonna kill us?! I’m sorry, I’ll be nicer! I’ll rescue fucking kittens out of trees, I’ll recycle all of my aluminum cans, I’ll--”

“Mr. Tozier,” The woman pinches at the bridge of her nose. “That is not at all what I meant.”

“Sure sounded like what you meant,” Eddie scoffs. 

The woman gets up from her seat and closes the file on her desk before tucking it in her arm again. “Shut up. Follow me.”

Richie and Eddie both get up and the chairs disappear into thin air once again. They follow the woman out through the other door inside the chamber and into a large corridor. The corridor is bright, with white brick and marble floors. On one wall of the corridor, there’s a whole section of elevator doors. The woman walks past Richie and Eddie and to one elevator. There is a large slot in the wall next to the elevator and she slips the file into the slot, which makes the elevator doors spring open. The woman extends her hand into the doors. 

Richie and Eddie both crowd into the elevator, which is upholstered in a rich, red velvet with metal gold trimmings. The woman doesn’t come with them and instead begins to walk away as the doors close. Eddie looks to Richie, his eyes wide. The elevator makes a dinging noise, but remains in place. The only button on the right panel of the elevator is a green one that says “Start.” Richie begins to lean towards it when Eddie grabs his hand and pulls it back from the button.

“Dude,” Eddie whines. “We don’t know what that does!”

“We have no other option,” Richie shrugs. 

Eddie looks around, touching the soft walls of the elevator. Richie reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. This gesture feels so different from how it did within the cistern, as Eddie is smaller and less stout as he was twelve hours ago. Richie still cannot catch a glimpse of himself in reflections. Eddie looks back at him finally, before nodding towards the button.

Richie pushes it and the elevator begins to climb. 

Then, the world goes black again. 


End file.
